


A little bit of sunshine in life

by Tomanto



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: British English, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Moving In Together, One Shot, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), out of character tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22233358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomanto/pseuds/Tomanto
Summary: A few months after Armageddon't, it's spring. Aziraphale and Crowley are moving in together and making a cute cottage in the South Downs their new home. Everything has to be perfect, or at least, perfect enough for them and their long, long life together.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	A little bit of sunshine in life

**Author's Note:**

> **Please read**  
>  The idea of writing this oneshot came to me when I saw these wonderful drawings on pinterest: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/828732768916910507/  
> https://www.pinterest.de/pin/828732768917312279/ (source: https://lonicera-caprifolium.tumblr.com/post/188204515258/its-a-good-look-for-him)
> 
> Written in British English (because I don't like when British media is Americanised.  
> One hour reading time (for slow readers like me).  
>  **PROTIP** : Look up flower language here uwu: http://thelanguageofflowers.com/

The sun shone brighter than most days. Such a sunny and warm spring day was rare in England. Or at least, anywhere else in England other than Tadfield. Tadfield was one of Aziraphale's first choices when it came to moving. It was a silly thought, no, Tadfield wouldn't do. Maybe this place only found its way into his mind because of the sheer chaos coming from it, which he had to deal with only a few months ago. Almost one year.  
One (1) year was nothing compared to the millennia he had spent on Earth. And with Crowley, who had been pretty much staying with him after almost-Armageddon, going out with him, taking him to long walks through St. James' Park and hissing at swans, drinking and reading in the bookshop. Crowley only ever left to take "care" of his plants, to groom his wings in private (getting small feathers out of carpets is a nuisance, and the bookshop and backrooms had many carpets and other soft surfaces from which small demon wing feathers or cat hairs would never get out of, and Crowley's flat was easy to sweep) or to give each other personal space and alone time.  
The bookshop burning down and the inconvenient discorporation of his angel might have left him anxious to leave Aziraphale's side. And keeping him company has always been a pleasure. Plus, there was no need to hide anymore. To go to Heaven or Hell and surround yourself with figures who don't understand or like you.  
Now it's just the two of them, alone, but together, far away from all the bad things. How romantic..

"So thoughtful all of a sudden, angel?" , Crowley said with a smile. He drove reasonably for once. And why not? There was no rush.

"Hm?" , Aziraphale responded, looking away from the car window he had been absentmindedly staring out of for the past 20 minutes. Crowley turnt halfway around and grabbed something from the backseat, which was packed with cardboard boxes, a big plant and several smaller ones, and lots of other stuff. Like the lunchbox with shortbread in it Crowley reached for, in case they got peckish. He handed it to his angel and watched in delight as Aziraphale raised his eyebrows and corner of his mouth to an anticipating smile. Watching that little expression evolve into a proud smile as he opened the box and saw what's inside, his eyes meeting his own for a short thankful moment before turning them back to his favourite biscuits. Aziraphale taking a bite and letting out a little moan in pleasure always makes Crowley's guts flutter. There's no better feeling in the world.  
The Bentley radio switched itself on and played soft piano tunes, which may or may not have been triggered by a conscious decision. There aren't much words needed.

The road changed from asphalt to an earthly ground strewn with gravel and between the trees and hills there was a cottage. Aziraphale had had suggested it after Crowley clarified the location - Devil's Dyke. "Of course, it wasn't enough to have a flat near the 'Serpentine' river in London now, was it?" is what he had said but Crowley just grinned, which shut his complaints down pretty quickly. The angel did have a soft spot for irony and puns, though. They wanted to look for already existing real estate instead of miracling something as big as a house into existence. Besides, both of them stayed away from miracling for a while in fear it would somehow alert their respective offices, wondering even if after all this they still had access to magic. But the fact alone that Crowley could still drive was reassuring enough that nothing bad would happen to them.  
There were some criteria they had to go through in order to make it a home fit for the both of them.  
A big garden for Crowley. A fireplace, Aziraphale insisted, preferably in the living room. A secure fireplace, just in case. Crowley could easily control mortal flames inconveniencing him but still. A nice kitchen, not too big, but big enough to cook gourmet food in. Crowley would cook and Aziraphale would bake, obviously. The bedroom. They hadn't decided much but judging by how Aziraphale is a clutter bitch and Crowley the type of person whose house looks like Disney on Ice without any trace of anyone actually living there and maybe having _one chair_ (if any), their bedroom just might look like a combination of both. The only words they had exchanged regarding their bedroom until now have been "Beige?", "No way!" and "Typical" .

The Bentley came to a stop and Crowley stepped out. His sunglasses shielding his snake eyes from the sudden light change. He doesn't try to make them appear rather normal as much as before. Aziraphale likes them either way and encourages his demon to take the glasses off when they are alone. Crowley however likes to keep them on when he's watching Aziraphale do.. anything really, in order to not be caught staring lovingly. He's not the type to open up about his soft feelings, though his angel knows him better.  
Crowley circled his car and opened the door for Aziraphale. He held out his hand like a gentleman. Aziraphale placed his perfectly manicured hand in Crowley's and got out of the car too. Any excuse to touch him is worth it, Crowley thought.

"Oh, look! Daffodils!" , Aziraphale exclaimed, satisfied with the view, and looked along the tiny low brick wall framing the front yard with blooming daffodil flowers lined up along it. Like tiny suns. Indeed, they did make everything brighter, didn't they?

"No need to rush, they are getting what they deserve soon enough" , Crowley exclaimed ominously, and a few leaves felt the sudden need to stiffen in worry.  
Aziraphale pretended not to roll his eyes but he secretly found Crowley's ambition to make every bit of their new life worthwhile very charming. Even when it meant scaring the seasonal flora.  
They wouldn't have a garden gate, that was also one of the criteria. Crowley wouldn't admit he was against it for the sole reason that he keeps pushing gates when they are supposed to be pulled. The constant anxiety of inevitably making a fool of himself infront of nobody by not opening a simple gate on the first try was something he wanted to leave behind.  
The way from the gravel road leading up to the front door was paved with dark, wide, shapeless stone. It would be warm to walk on with bare feet in the summer, but not hot enough to hurt or burn.  
They walked up to the front door and Crowley unlocked it. He let a lingering glance at Aziraphale catch his angel's attention. He hesitated and looked in wonder.  
Crowley opened the door. The room was big, bright and empty, the untouched fireplace and the window on the left were the only interesting things to look at yet. Everything looked exactly like last time. Now it would be time to finally fill it.

"Our new home.." , said Aziraphale with an emotional smile and laying a hand on his chest, sensing the love coming out of himself and filling the air.

"Just you and me, angel" , Crowley said coquettishly, "Come here!" . Aziraphale let out a small sound of surprise as Crowley wrapped his arms around his waist and lifted him up. He giggled in delight as Crowley carried him across the doorstep and into the cottage as if he was his bride. Aziraphale was soft, smelled like fresh clothes and roses and love (with a hint of shortbread), and he was.. heavy. He was heavy and embarrassed. But Crowley would be **damned** before he was perceived as too weak to lift his angel!!  
He nuzzled his face into his chest and took a deep inhale of that sweet scent, exhaling with a deep sigh buried in the clothes, leaving a warm spot on his clothing.  
Carefully, he spun around and lowered Aziraphale in a downward spiral back to the ground so he could stand on his own again but kept him tightly in his embrace. Any excuse to touch him is worth it, he thought again.  
"Oh, my darling! ~" , Aziraphale let out in a flash of happiness. He has read many books about romance and yet none of them could have prepared him for the sheer amount of love radiating from his soul. "Let me see you" . He gently took his glasses and looked into Crowley's eyes, which have become so dear to him. He let out a fake gasp, "Theeere he is! Look at you!" .

"Ehehe, ssstop.." , Crowley giggled shyly.

"Mmmm ~ what a beauty you are.."

"Ngh" said Crowley, who didn't plan to turn red today.

"My clever, dashing, stunning, _dearest_ Crowley ~" , he gently stroked his cheek.

" _Aziiii_ " , Crowley squeaked and failed his plan.

Aziraphale held his blushing face in his hands and smiled softly. "You're mine"

Crowley's eyes watered and his knees and arms turnt into useless shaking limbs. To prevent him from collapsing on his emotions Aziraphale embraced him in a warm hug, holding him and nuzzling his face into his collarbone. He smelled like cinnamon apples and a faint touch of car leather. It was nice, seeing him whimper at every little piece of affection Aziraphale was giving him. He would shower him in affection if he wasn't so easily thrown by it. Time, he thought, give him time and he will get used to these new, bigger portions of affection he will be getting regularly. Daily. Every day, for the rest of their lives.

"Now," Aziraphale began and let go of him, giving his demon a way to gain back his strength but making sure he keeps his demon weak enough for him, "What do we do first?" .

Crowley cleared his throat and looked around the room, but was quite distracted by Aziraphale's lashes as he coquettishly blinked twice. His angelic blue eyes waiting for an answer. Oh, he is _good_.  
Crowley made a noise similar to a bike being moved for the first time in 3 years "S'ppose I'll start cleaning, yea? I mean, can't really start bringing in stuff if it's dusty ev'rywhere right??" .

"Very well then, dear. Let's get to it" .

Crowley opened all windows and let fresh air in while dusting all surfaces in the entire cottage. Aziraphale thought it would be best to vacuum the carpets before they'd be brought inside and spread them out across the stone pavement outside which he had previously swept. It was an old habit of Crowley's to use a piece of cloth or fashionable alice band to keep his long hair from falling on his face when he did something that required hard labour. Now that he had short hair it wouldn't necessarily be in the way, yet the feeling of it falling on his forehead came close to his experiences and tickled his nerves, so he pushed it back anyway, using a simple kitchen towel.  
After scrubbing basically all of the tiles and the tub of the bathroom on the first floor, Crowley let his upper body hang out of the window in exhaustion. He could use a good nap after all this. He looked down to Aziraphale, who had neatly put his jacket and bow tie away and was folding up his sleeves. Crowley's attention received a boost, seeing Aziraphale like this. Not that he has never seen him like this before but it was always something to look at, he had to admit, it was always.. exciting.  
Aziraphale, who hasn't been the angel of the Eastern Gate for nothing, rolled up the carpets and put as many of them on his arms as he could fit. He carried them easily.  
There might or might not have been a bit of drool at the corner of Crowley's mouth as he watched with glazing eyes.  
Before Aziraphale walked inside he noticed Crowley looking out of the window (good thing he couldn't see him blushing again from there), so he held up a hand and wiggled the index and ring finger as a friendly wave.  
Crowley rested his face on his knuckles and lazily waved back with the other hand, while gazing lovingly at him and letting out a faint sigh. He felt like Juliet on her balcony. Just without the fear of being caught by her family. Ironic, because Aziraphale and his relationship was the only reason _"Romeo and Juliet"_ was written in the first place.

Aziraphale had already made a mental map of how the living room should look like. A cosy sofa with tartan blankets infront of the fireplace, one of the bookshelves on the wall to the right, his desk at the window, not sure where to put Crowley's TV though... Crowley had several paintings he had never hung up, some of them were originals from the Renaissance, and he thought about either hanging them up somewhere or getting rid of them for good. He never needed them anyways, they were only part of all the other junk he had bought and then disposed of shortly after. Through the years he has worked on perfecting his cool, rich, stylish human persona who follows all the newest trends and owns the most expensive stuff. But.. now?  
Now he's hardly ever in touch with humans from the 'big city', people who'd stare and appreciate his efforts. Now it seems quite silly to still try to keep this up because.. those are not the things he truly loves in his life. He loves his Bentley, an old (but beautiful and stylish) car; he loves wine since its invention, he loves The Velvet Underground and Queen, he loves Golden Girls (the 20th century sure was his favourite so far), and he loves Aziraphale - a love as old as time.  
And this love is currently attempting to lift four boxes and eleven stacked books on top at once.

Crowley hurried outside and gestured at the pile. "Angel, what the Heaven are you doing? Are you sure you want to carry this all by yourself?" .

"It's fine, dear, but I think your plants can't wait to get out of that stuffy backseat" , said Aziraphale and looked behind him at the stacked boxes and plants still in the car.

"Ok, then. Hold on, let me just-" , said Crowley and hurried to the car. He chose to stack some of the lighter boxes on top of each other and his biggest plants on top of them. He didn't want to appear weak but secretly miracled his pile to be lighter and his plants to stay in place. "There. Ready?".

"Ready"

"Ok, one, two, three-" he counted and together they lifted their piles and started carrying them around. The books on Aziraphale's far too high tower were about to fall down but Crowley miracled them to stay in place and watched them carefully.

"My, my! Impressive how much you can carry all by yourself already, dear" , complimented Aziraphale.

"I know, right? I'm working out!" . He wasn't.

"How ambitious!" , he laughed. He made sure to make Crowley feel proud of himself. And he should be, even when it comes to just lifting boxes. Every bit of effort is commendable with a bit of kindness.

Crowley noticed the front yard needed some trimming. He'd make sure to instil fear into this lawn by cutting the grass and ripping out the pesky little weed himself, root and all, and then lay it all together and show the flowers what would happen to them if they dared to wither. They will be subject to Crowley's mercy as they tremble in terror! Yes, YES! FEAR ME! MUHAHAHAHA-

"Sweetheart? Be a dear and help me out, will you? ~ " , Aziraphale purred from the kitchen.

"Coming, my angel! ~ " . Crowley hurried in. He put down the tower of boxes and plants, which appeared to be rather puzzled by their master's sudden sweet tone. Crowley walked into the kitchen and looked outside the window, showing a nice view of the front lawn and stone pavement leading to the gravel road where the Bentley stood. A well placed window to see potential visitors approaching from. Aziraphale stood infront of a modern looking cooker clearly fit to prepare luxurious food. Next to him several open boxes and cupboards and a radio playing relaxing tunes like from a late night talkshow. The demon crept up to him and slithered his hands under Aziraphale's arms and around his belly in a hugging motion from behind, which made Aziraphale shiver a little in surprise. _Any excuse_.  
"Experimenting with pet names, are we, angel?" , he asked and smelt the soft curls of Aziraphale's bright hair as he rested his cheek at the back of his head. Roses. Aziraphale would have gladly placed his hands over Crowley's and gently stroked them and nuzzled into the sensation but he was preoccupied by a tiny booklet out of cheap looking paper in his hands, which he tried to decipher.  


"What is that?"

"A manual for the cooker. I must admit this advanced technology is a bit too much for me. Say, how good is your Korean?"

"Korean?.. Uhhh.. Not sure. Never really spent much time there"

"Didn't you get an award for establishing a dictatorship in the North?"

"Eeemm fsjdshyou know, that wasn't me, really.." , Crowley admitted in a half murmuring, half stammering tone and gently caressed Aziraphale's sides, "The big guys downstairs just saw something happening and blamed me for it. And well, I wasn't doing much at that time, I could have really used the commendation, ya know, so I didn't say anything against it".

"Right. So you can't read it?" , Aziraphale asked and held the manual in an angle which would be easier to read for the demon looking over his shoulder, provided he could read it at all. Crowley tried, but could only recognize shapes similar to Hebrew, which was a useless observation considering that these had nothing in common with Hebrew letters besides some of them having a vaguely similar style.

"Ngh.." .

"How unfortunate" , Aziraphale sighed.

"Manuals like this must have at least one translation, right? You're fit in Japanese, let's see if we can find any" . Crowley let go of Aziraphale and searched the other papers that came with the cooker. It didn't take long for him to find a version in Mandarin and in Japanese hiragana. "Ha! Found it!" .

Aziraphale gratefully took the folded papers. "Arigato gozaimasu" , he said with a proud smirk.

Crowley did like hearing the sound of Aziraphale's voice speaking Japanese. It was so smooth and soft and comforting. He wasn't good at speaking French though and Crowley could hear Aziraphale's frustration with the language as he kept forgetting words and then taking random English or Latin words and pronouncing them vaguely French, in a desperate hope that these particular words are used in French too, since both English and French have their fair share of words originating from Latin or Greek. But Aziraphale only struggled when it came to being confronted and suddenly needing to speak it. However, when he reads a book in French, he can read it quite well. Maybe this is what happens when the last time you had to actively make an effort to speak and remember a language was centuries ago, Crowley concluded.

"Why do you try to figure out the cooker already? All of this stuff is still in its packaging" , Crowley wondered.

"What would you say to some homemade crêpes after we're done?" , Aziraphale said with a smile. The relaxing music playing lightly from the radio felt like a sweet summer breeze. "Our first dinner at home.. I'm making hot cocoa.." , Aziraphale gently placed his fingertips on Crowley's. The demon heard the sweet voice of his angel caressing his senses and gave in, slowly entwining their fingers and mildly rocking to the rhythm of the music coming from the radio. "Watching the sun set.. and the golden light passing through our cottage.."

"Mmm~" , Crowley purred and closed his eyes as they pressed their foreheads together, lingering in the meditative moment, feeling peace of mind for once. Building comfort in the slow movement to the breeze of music. His heart melted like chocolate in the sun.

"And later we can sit by the fire.. drink tea.." , Aziraphale tenderly brushed his thumb over Crowley's hand. He could feel his warm breath on his face. "And then-"

The music stopped and an overly flashy introduction jingle started playing as the name of the radio station was announced. There goes the mood. Aziraphale flicked his tongue in annoyance and miracled the radio to turn itself off. It was now silent in the kitchen. Crowley opened his eyes and looked at his angel.

"And then?" , he asked, as he was very interested what they could be doing next. And after that. And after that, and all the days that are yet to come. Aziraphale smiled again.

"I could read to you. One of Shakespeare's funny plays. They are quite enjoyable even when not performed on a stage" .

"I would love that, angel. All of it"

"And then I'll tuck you into bed?"

"Not if I tuck you in first" , Crowley said with a big and challenging smile. Aziraphale let out a small giggle.

"Coffee in the morning?"

"Hell yes!" . He giggled once more. As much as Crowley could stare into those heavenly pale blue eyes, he didn't want to miss a day of progress they could be achieving if they just stopped distracting each other from their work around the house. There was still much to do. He shifted his position and cleared his throat, signalling movement and change. It was an endearing moment, though. "Uhh yes, very well then, carry on. I'll be, um, outside" . He bumped into the doorframe of the kitchen as he walked backwards and awkwardly laughed it off and pointed to the front yard. "To, um, to weed the garden, I mean. Yes" . He cleared his throat once more, and tried to organize his thoughts. Change clothes! Yes, right. Can't ruin these trousers with mud. 

.

.

Crowley's method of weeding the garden was based on making a good first impression. Which was difficult, given how Aziraphale made him wear a broad-brimmed sunhat to protect him from catching sunburn and this time he even encouraged him to wear the dark glasses as to not hurt his eyes in the unusually bright light the weather was giving them today. However, even though Crowley wore a sunhat (a stylish one though, black with a ribbon), a loose black tank top and a loose denim dungaree which he cuffed at the bottom, big looking gardening gloves, and sunscreen, he still managed to be somewhat intimidating. He had a spade in his hand and a fiery look in his eyes. He folded his sunglasses and attached them to the big front pocket on his dungaree, looking down on the plants and weeds he was about to lecture, so they could see his demonic eyes.

"So. You think you can just sit here and spread your pesky little disease of what you call 'leaves' however you like, huh" , Crowley began, twisting the spade in his hand and checking the sharpness of its tip. "Not anymore. You see, now that I am here, your filthy lives as you knew them are over" . He pointed the spade at the flowers and weeds and let it hover over them like a torturing device.  
"As long you are here, you better do your absolute best to look nothing less than perfect. I will decide whether or not your best efforts are enough. if they aren't.." , Crowley set an example, crouched down and quickly rammed the spade into the soil to cut off most of the roots of a fairly young and helpless thistle and to grab and rip it out more easily. This sent a wave of shock across all flora in hearing range. The ripping sounds of roots from the soil was the stuff of nightmares.  
He ripped out two more and got up. He showed off the remains of three thistles for all flora in the garden to see.

"I _reeeaally_ don't like thistles.." , he said and threw them infront of the other plants, which were now shaking in terror. "I suggest from now on we won't tolerate any more of them here. Because you see, everything needs to be perfect; not because of me, oh no" , Crowley began and formed a fool proof plan. He pointed to Aziraphale who filled the kitchen cupboards with exquisite flowery china. "This guy right there is the real danger. Compared to him I am merciful. If you lot don't look your absolute **best** when he walks by... Oh no, not even I want to think of what gruesome things he could do.." . Crowley put on an act and looked away, covering his mouth and faked a sob. The plants' own imagination would do the rest.

"He might even do an inspection and compliment the ones who satisfy him and meet his standards. So if your own existence is worth something to you, you'd better make sure to look perfect in his presence. _**Underssstood?**_ " . The plants shivered in agreement and subjection. Yesss, his plan of making the plants always look perfect for Aziraphale would definitely work. They would blossom and shine for him, just like he does.

"Now. Let's prepare you for it" , he said, put his dark glasses back on, and began using classical gardening techniques; weeding, mowing the grass, fertilizing the flower beds. He would take a quick shower after this.

.

.

.

Evening came. Aziraphale had pretty much furnished the entire living room, dining room, and bedroom by himself. He was quite exhausted but wanted to fulfil his promises nonetheless, so he prepared crêpes in the not quite finished kitchen while Crowley showered. Aziraphale was more the bathing type, for the relaxation. Sometimes a normal human ritual like that could brighten his day more than a quick miracle.  
He had to restrain himself from snacking on early finished crêpes. Patience is a virtue, he reminded himself. The batter would soon be all used up and then he could eat in peace, having a proper dinner with Crowley. He felt like he should be risking something. He wanted to surprise his demon a little. He heard the sound of a hair dryer from above, there was still time.  
After he had finished baking, Aziraphale miracled himself into more comfortable clothing but made sure it still looked fancy enough for a gourmet restaurant. He also miracled pink and red candles around the dining room and dimmed the lights. Goodness, is that too much?, he thought. But still, he wanted a cosy evening after such a long day full of hard work and he knew Crowley would appreciate the gesture. But this time without music, that would really be too much.  
He heard steps coming from the stairs as he placed the cutlery next to their plates and waited for Crowley to enter the room. But he didn't. What he did instead was make nervous noises from behind the doorframe. Aziraphale smiled to himself as he poured the hot cocoa into a mug.

"Don't you want to join me, dear?"

Crowley responded with a noise similar to squeaky chalk on a blackboard.

"It's ok, I don't bite".

"If I had known you'd make such a big deal out of it I would have dressed better.." , Crowley murmured with an abashed, whiny, high pitched voice.

"Crowley.." , Aziraphale said exhortingly, curious about how he might be dressed, "We don't want the dinner to grow cold now, do we?" .

"Ngh" , said Crowley and slithered up to the table in his snake form, regular sized. Aziraphale sighed.

"You're being ridiculous" , he exclaimed, "And I'm not letting you swallow the crêpes whole, I worked too hard on those"

Crowley knew he'd have to turn back eventually. He slithered up his chair and turned back into his human form. He was already wearing his black pyjamas with a cosy yet dorky jumper over it, which he thought was embarrassing now that Aziraphale had changed into rather formal (but not too formal) attire. He had also redone his nails with black polish.

"Oh.. Good Lord, Crowley" , said Aziraphale and watched him blush uncontrollably and looking anywhere but forward. Poor snake, this wasn't helping. "Perhaps I've overdone it a little. Here, let me fix this" . He snapped his fingers and miracled himself into his own blue pyjamas and added a woollen slipover (tartan). Now Aziraphale looked just as unfit for a fancy night out as him, and it worked. He noticed Crowley's features relaxing a bit but he was clearly still nervous and fidgeted with something.

"Angel?" , he began as Aziraphale started eating.

"Hm?" , Aziraphale replied.

"I uhh.. I've got you something" . Crowley put what he had held in his hand on the table. It was a cute little bundle of ambrosia and lily-of-the-valley flowers, tied together with strings of grass. "From the garden" .

Aziraphale lay down his cutlery and carefully took the bundle with both hands, staring at it with wide eyes and pink cheeks. Then he looked at Crowley and almost teared up.

"Aww, Crowleeey!~" .

"Ngk-" . The demon flinched at this sweet tone. I am a demon, he thought, don't say 'Aww' to me!  
In his mind Crowley tried to come up with a way to look at this situation differently, so that he could be viewed as diabolical and evil instead of the sweetest thing in the world. He pictured himself how he - a very bad, diabolical, wicked, evil demon from hell - killed innocent flowers as a gift for an angel. But he still couldn't come up with a way to turn the gifting part into a bad thing.

"Thank you, dearest!" . This was definitely one of the best days Aziraphale ever had. Unironically, all of his best days included Crowley.

" 'Ss nothing, angel, don't mention it" , Crowley murmured and stuffed a big chunk of crêpes into his mouth. To his surprise, they tasted absolutely wonderful. "Oh my G-, Sa-, Someone.. Angel, you _made_ these?"

"Well certainly" .

"These are amazing! Where did you learn that??" , asked Crowley and ate more.

Aziraphale smiled, looked down and tucked a strand of white hair behind his ear.  
"I remembered a recipe from France in the 18th century".

"You mean when your head was almost cut off?" , Crowley asked with a slight tone of judgement. Now he was finally comfortable again. And bitchy.

"No, after that. After you rescued me ~" , said Aziraphale and looked at him teasingly as he took another bite. Crowley sunk a bit into the chair and buried his face in a sip of warm cocoa from his mug, which he held with both hands. Even the cocoa tasted homemade and lovely but he didn't say anything this time. After his sip he looked at the cocoa in childlike wonder, as if he couldn't believe it was normal cocoa, but it was, and did an unconscious blep with his snake tongue.  
Aziraphale knew he enjoyed it too.

.

.

Aziraphale has made dinner, Crowley thought, that wasn't right, Aziraphale enjoys eating way more than I do - I should have been the one to pamper him!  
Tomorrow he would make an effort and get up early (ugh) and prepare Italian breakfast for his angel. But tonight the only thing he could do for him was to tuck him into bed, put big pillows behind him for back support and hand him his reading glasses and his favourite collection of Shakespeare's plays. He promised it after all.  
Crowley slid under the blanket and - as all snakes do - lay closest to the warmest thing he could cling onto. He basically lay between his angel's legs, with his head resting on Aziraphale's soft belly, arms wrapped around, and his left leg enclosing Aziraphale's right one. Crowley loves to sprawl out in his sleep, so his position is always a bit undefinable.  
Aziraphale tenderly ran his fingers through his demon's hellfire red hair.

"How is this?" , he asked and Crowley gently squeezed Aziraphale's sides with his arms as he nuzzled his face into his belly. He could hear Aziraphale's heart beating, he could feel his body move under his breath and himself moving with it. He smelled like home.

"Mmm.. ssso nice.. ~" , Crowley hissed dreamily. Aziraphale opened the book and searched for the first page of _'Much Ado About Nothing'_. "Can you.. uhm.." , Crowley began hesitantly with - again - a higher and slightly distorted but soft voice, "Can you keep petting me? While you read?" . There was no way he could turn this evil. This time, Crowley had to accept his softness. He'd get used to it someday. Over time.

"Of course, dear" .

"-And angel?"

"Hm~?" , he replied, making sure to give his demon all the attention he needed, stroking his hair all the way down to his neck.

"... Good night" .

Aziraphale felt a wave of warmth radiating from his chest and smiled.

"Good night~" , he whispered, and with a soft kiss on his head he let Crowley's mind slowly drift off.. to sleep.


End file.
